“Dad had such a deep voice,” I said to my mom on the phone a few weeks back.

“Yes, that’s why I called him my Brummelbär (Brummel bear), his voice rumbled from deep within,” she replied with tenderness in her voice.

I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about dad lately, with Father’s Day and his birthday looming closer. I used to dread June because it brought Father’s Day, my brother’s birthday and my dad’s birthday, and when I didn’t have a lot of money, it seemed taxing to buy three cards and gifts in one month.

Man, what I wouldn’t give to have that worry back, to have dad back.

Yet, I can’t really complain. I was blessed for 52 years with the best possible man for me, as my father. He was a good man, a kind man, a peaceful man. And he loved us.

As best as I can tell Brummel means rumble. And mom’s right. His voice rumbled from deep within like a bear. And it remains in my heart, in my DNA it would seem, guiding me, and still brings me comfort when I most need it.

Today is my first Father’s Day without you. The beginning of many firsts without you. Yes, I’m a bit sad about that Dad, but I don’t want to talk about that today. Because I am the luckiest woman in the world.

I am incredibly grateful for having had you in my life. You always made me feel so important and cherished. From day one I knew you were in my corner; even when I was wrong.

You’ve only been gone seven months. Gone yet not really gone. I still see you everywhere. I catch a glimpse of you in the mirror. You grace me with your presence in my dreams. And Dad, the other day an older gentleman who had your walk and your playful facial expression stopped in his tracks and looked at me. It made me smile. I know how blessed I was to have you as my father.

The man who brought me to watch as the dentist worked on his teeth because I was afraid. He wanted to show me there was no reason to be afraid.

And when I finally allowed the dentist to give me a needle, Dad – the man who took me out for a rare glass of Coke so he could watch me suck it up through the straw and dribble it out of my frozen mouth.

The only man I truly trusted as a child to tend to my scrapes and cuts when I got hurt.

Like the time I dove into the lake and cut my right hand between the index finger and ring finger on a sharp rock. Oh how it bled and terrified me to see one of my little hand bones exposed.

But Dr. Schwenk came to the rescue, binding my fingers tightly together with gauze in the hopes that he might spare me a doctor’s visit and possible stitches.

I looked at my scar today Dad, before I sat down to write this post; it reminds me of how safe you made me feel as a child.

I thought you were the handsomest, coolest Dad ever. In many ways you were my hero and still are.

It makes me laugh to think about how many years of ties, slippers and house-coats you endured as gifts.

Well those years are gone, even though they live on in my memories.

We’re all much older now.

It seems so unfair that now it is you who suffers with pain caused by Osteoarthritis and the fusing of four of your vertebrae. You of all people who worked so hard to provide for your family and made us feel so safe.

I hate that you’re in pain.

I hate that you can barely walk or sit up because of pain.

I hate how it messes with yours and Mom’s plans of what retirement would look like.

I hate that it prevents you from connecting with your social network.

I wish I had your ability to be Dr. Schwenk so that I could return the favour and make you all better, because more than anything, that is the gift I wish I could give you this year for Father’s Day. ❤

We were on our way back from Uncle Karl’s and Tante Stella’s. It was late and we had a long drive ahead of us. As was the case with every late night drive, I was worried. Worried we wouldn’t find our way home. Worried that we were hopelessly lost.

I don’t know if it was because it was dark out, but I was afraid. And I kept asking you if you knew the way home, if we were lost, if we were still on course. You could have become annoyed with my constant questioning. You could have told me to shut-up already. But you didn’t. Every time I asked, you answered. Yes I know the way home. No we’re not lost. I promise.

Happy Father’s Day Dad!

Thank you for making me feel safe.

Thank you for reassuring me when I was afraid.

Thank you for always being there when I needed you.

Thank you for always believing in me and encouraging me.

Thank you for your quiet strength and loyalty.

Thank you for always making me feel like I’m significant and beautiful.

Well in our household, whether you had acne, sprained your ankle, got a painful sunburn, cut yourself shaving, had a cold sore, toothache, stomach-ache, earache, cramps in your leg, the hiccups, a bad cough, a runny nose, growing pains, a mole, a wart, a fat lip, a black eye, Chicken Pox, Tonsillitis, ingrown toenail, hang nail – you name it – there was only one sure cure.